Thomas Andrews A voyage through the Afterlife
by Sic-Semper-Tyrannis
Summary: What happen to Tommie Andrews after Rose and Jack ran past. Well, I intend to answer that question.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, young Rose." Thomas Andrews whispered as Rose and Jack ran up the slanting deck away from him. A guttural roar echoed from the ship a few minutes later. He gripped the mantel tighter. "Every man has his hopes, his dreams, and his loves. Mine was these goddamned ships. Oh, Hellen, I miss ye dearly, darlin'" Andrews muttered. A loud crack, and the ship split behind him. He felt the ship level briefly. "Good bye to life, good bye to love." he was quoting Shakespeare. The ship rose, and he dropped into the water, surfacing in the icy water, and he watched his dream sink slowly. "Damn bloody coward Ismay. Escapin' and pinnin' it all on Tommie Andrews." he muttered, before swimming towards the sinking ship.

He saw Rose and Jack gripping the rail. He grabbed it too, but he didn't let go. It dragged him down, down, down to the darkening sea. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the water as a massive air pocket blew inside the stern. Andrews lost all conscious memory, and felt himself rising up.


	2. The Meeting with Ismay, 1908

Andrews came to himself standing on the keel plates of TITANIC in Harland and Wolff Shipyards. An apprentice was hammering away on the rivets. "TOMMIE!" Andrews turned around. It was his uncle, the viscount William Pierrie. "Come on! Ismay and his consultant are waitin' on ye up in me office." Andrews nodded, recognizing the beginning of one of his worst memories. "Ah, Thomas." Ismay's welsh accent cutting the silence. "This is Mr. Jonathan Lloyd, White Star's new executive consultant. He has revised your plans, and made the nesecerry changes." Andrews looked over the blueprint, knowing what he would see. LIFEBOATS: 64 32 16; DOUBLE HULL NOT NEEDED; BULKHEADS SHORTENED TO E – DECK. Andrews felt his face growing red. "Tell me, Mr. Lloyd. Have ye ever been on a sinkin' ship? No, no ye haven't. I have. People don't behave all orderly. They run around like bugs. The little boats, there's not even enough for half. If she foundered, over 1,500 would die. Now, I can understand why you think you can do this, but I designed these ships. I can tell ye right now she's not unsinkable. I can tell ye about 150 scenarios that would cause her to founder. And this," he gestured at the note pertaining to the hull," if we have the two hulls, she has a damper on her bell. And the steel White Star buys, too much slag. You wanna see what happens to slagged off steel, here." Andrews pulled out the sample of TITANIC's steel, and threw it at the wall. It cracked down the center. "Get it cold enough, it'll shatter like King Edward's Teacup! Now do ye see why I want these ships better protected, ye damn bloody British Aristocrat!?" Tommie yelled angrily.

"And where's Mr. Carslile?" Andrews asked, "where's Mr. Alexander Carslile, surely the Managin' Director o' the shipyard ought to be here to see this. Wait…" Andrews realized. "Mr. Carslile told you everything I just did, dinna he? You damn aristocrat, ye fired him, dinna you? He uses his Wellin Davits in me design, and ye fire him! I mighta known. But Uncle William, yer own Brother-in-law!" Tommie glared daggers at his uncle as he spoke. Andrews glared around the room, Ismay looking every bit as calm as before.

"Thomas, I realize you think you need to overbuild these ships, but I own them. I have the final word on all designs. These ships are unsinkable. Nothing could cause them to sink! A double hull takes up valuable room for steerage cabins. I make a lot of money on steerage, you know. The bulkheads take up valuable cargo space. Cargo is one thing you can guarantee a lot of, eh? And all these 'little boats' as you so drolly call them are an unnecessary waste of relaxation deck for my First Class Passengers! I swear Thomas, you overbuild everything. So typical of the Irish." Here, Andrews saw his uncle's face darken as well.

"See here Mr. Ismay!" Andrews and his Uncle shouted together. Andrews continued the rant. "Ye see this," he cried, pulling out a binder, "these are letters from the captain of Mauretania, Cunard's ship. He has five binders like these of difficulties controlling his ship. And ye want TITANIC and OLYMPIC to be at least 100 feet longer? With size like that, they're bound to sink! And Mr. Lloyd," Andrews turned an icy glare on the small man, "has he ever had to do any work designing an ocean liner? He gets seasick lookin' at a cup o' tea! With all his modifications, we're sendin' Gilded eggshells out to sea! I might as well build these ships with holes in the bottom!" Andrews stormed out angrily. The scene dissolved before his eyes, and he felt himself rising again.


End file.
